


016 "motorcycle"

by wheel_pen



Series: Iron Man AU [16]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fish out of Water, My Pepper is different, Pre-Iron Man, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Pepper ride his motorcycle to work—right into the lobby of the building. Pepper isn't encouraging about the experience, but he suspects she liked it more than she lets on. "That's what happens when you ride the wind, baby!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	016 "motorcycle"

**Author's Note:**

> 1) My Pepper is very different from canon Pepper. Her personality/origin is very different; to separate her from canon Pepper I've given her a new last name and a different hair color.
> 
> 2) The bad words are censored. That's just how I do things.
> 
> 3) Stories are numbered in the order I wrote them, which isn't necessarily the order in which they occur. At some point I'll post a timeline.
> 
> I wrote this series after the first Iron Man movie came out. It's very AU but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play with these characters.

            It was time to go to work one morning. Pepper had eaten her box of cereal (yes, the entire box), gathered up her papers and laptop, and was waiting for me just outside the door, talking to Happy. Suddenly there was a loud rumble and a dashing, dangerously virile figure (me) came riding out of the garage on a very expensive motorcycle.

            Pepper was interested immediately, as I knew she would be. Pepper liked things that produced energetic vibrations. Hey, I didn't mean that in a—well, maybe I _did_ mean it in a dirty way. Pepper liked explosions, fireworks, loud music, cars with loud motors. The sort of thing that made most other people wince. And in _exactly_ what way she liked them was a subject I had not yet explored to my satisfaction.

            "What's that?" Pepper asked, wandering over.

            "It's a _motorcycle_ ," I replied, knowing any further details would be lost on her.

            "It's very loud," she remarked approvingly, putting her hand on the still-shuddering seat.

            "Wanna ride it?" I asked roguishly, as only a man clad in black leather can.

            She was tempted, I could tell. But Pepper was very disciplined. "That _isn't_ the midnight blue Zegna I laid out for you," she noted, looking over my torn jeans, motorcycle jacket, and AC/DC t-shirt.

            "Pepper," I chided, "everyone knows you don't wear Zegna when you ride a motorcycle!" I looked over at my chauffeur. "Back me up on this, Happy."

            "Well, I certainly don't, sir," he assured us.

            "But you should wear the midnight blue Zegna at _work_ ," Pepper persisted.

            "There's no wild spirit inside you longing to break free, is there, Pepper?" I surmised.

            She frowned at me in concern. "Did you eat something bad for breakfast, sir?"

            I sighed. "Just give the suit to Happy, I'll change at the office," I compromised.

            Pepper fetched the suit and its accessories, including shoes which she deemed more appropriate than the boots I was currently wearing. "Okay, now put your laptop and everything else in the car," I instructed. "Happy can bring it up to my office. When we hit the road, babe, we travel light." She did not seem impressed by my pseudo-biker lingo.

            Happy finally left, laden with cargo but no passengers. Given how I usually drove I would probably beat him to the office. "Okay, listen up, I'm going to give you some safety rules for riding motorcycles," I began sternly, and Pepper assumed an air of attentiveness. "You will sit behind me. You will stay seated at all times and you will keep your feet where I tell you to." I had learned you could never just _assume_ basic knowledge with Pepper. "You will keep both arms around me at all times. You will not grope, tickle, kiss, or in any way attempt to seduce me while we're driving. That would lead to me being distracted and possibly to our deaths. Understand?" You wouldn't believe how often I had to enforce these rules with passengers.

            "No groping. I understand, sir," Pepper replied.

            "Now that's only while we're on the motorcycle," I clarified. "You can grope me at other times if you want."

            "Thank you, sir."

            "Also, no screaming in my ear, and no using your phone for any purpose. Including checking your email," I added. "I think that's all. Any questions?"

            "This seems very dangerous," Pepper observed, looking over the machine. I figured she was just sore about the no emailing rule. 

            "Well, I don't know about _very_ …"

            "There's no side or overhead protection, and no safety straps."

            I rolled my eyes. "You sound like someone's mother. It's a motorcycle! You don't have safety straps on a _horse_ , do you? Same principle." Pepper did not quite seem convinced by my argument. "Any other objections?"

            "No, sir."

            "Good. Then hitch up your skirt and climb on."

            It was a little more complicated than that, since Pepper was clearly _not_ dressed for a motorcycle ride and may not even have _owned_ anything more appropriate. But eventually we got it sorted out. Pepper hooked her arms firmly around me, I started the bike up, and away we went.

            I liked driving fast. No shock there. I also had excellent balance and a certain disregard for the rules, so a number of semi-reckless incidents occurred on the way to work. Pepper herself was very well-behaved, however, which I appreciated because I was distracted enough by her mere physical proximity.

            At last the tower for Stark Industries came into view. But I didn't head for the parking garage. Oh no. That would be too simple. Too easy. "Hang on," I instructed Pepper, unnecessarily. I headed for the main entrance.

            It took a little speed to get up the steps, but once I hit the plaza I slowed down a little, trying to remember what the response rate of the automatic door sensor was. I thought it would be okay.

            And it was, of course. The doors opened automatically and I roared the motorcycle into the lobby and across the marble floor, gunning the motor more than necessary to make sure everyone noticed. No one dramatically tossed a box of donuts and leaped out of the way or anything like that—I was considerate, I didn't come at rush hour when the place would have been crowded. Still, as I glanced up at the interior floors, I was gratified to see a large number of people staring over the railings at me.

            I cut the motor. "You may now let go and dismount," I informed Pepper, who did so.

            I pulled off my sunglasses and tossed the keys stylishly to a random junior assistant-type who was gaping at me. "Get this parked," I ordered him genially.

            "What the h—l—" I heard from somewhere above, followed by, "Oh, it's _you_."

            I turned to see Obadiah striding down the stairs towards me. "Well who _else_ would it be?" I asked sensibly. "G-d, if anyone else rode their motorcycle _into the lobby_ , I'd fire their a‑s then and there." He did not seem to see the humor in the situation. "Except maybe Pepper," I added, turning to my assistant. "Well, how did you like your first motorcycle ride?"

            "My hair got messed up," she complained, already pinning it back into place.

            "That's what happens when you ride the wind, baby," I told her sagely.

            By now Obadiah had reached us and he lowered his voice as he leaned in. "Have you been drinking?" he asked seriously.

            "No!" I replied, greatly offended. "This is my normal sober behavior."

            "Then what the h—l were you thinking?!" he demanded, hands on his hips. His voice echoed up through the hollow center of the building.

            I snickered. "I was thinking, I wonder if this will be what finally gives you a heart attack!"

            He sighed and rolled his eyes, realizing it was futile to point out the error of my ways to me. I gave the bike one final pat and headed for the elevator, with Pepper and Obadiah right behind me. "You could've at least worn a helmet," he suggested persistently.

            "If I'd worn a helmet, how would people know it was me?" I shot back.

            "Mrs. Salyers says Mr. Hogan left your suit in your office, so you can change in time for your two o'clock meeting," Pepper reported, poking at her phone. Apparently we hadn't beaten Happy here after all—the safety lecture must have taken too long. Pepper's tone was all business now, but her cheeks were still a little pink, and not from windburn I was guessing.

            "I think you liked the motorcycle, didn't you, Pepper?" I teased, as the elevator carried the three of us to the top of the building.

            "Well," she replied thoughtfully, "it's not a very efficient means of transportation. I can check my messages and send emails in the car."

            "Pepper, your pragmatism is crushing my soul," I told her. "You _know_ everything I do is just for you."

            She gave me a concerned look. "Then I must have led you far astray in life." Obadiah snorted.

            "Fine, Pepper," I pouted. "I was gonna let you be my biker babe. We were gonna get matching tattoos and everything. But now—" The elevator stopped and opened on my floor.

            "I don't think 'Smith Naked' would have the same impact as a pun, sir," she countered coolly.

            (Brief aside: I had gotten my tattoo when I was sober, on the theory that then I wouldn't get one drunk, which had so far been successful. But it wasn't exactly located in a commonly-visible area.)

            My eyes widened as I followed her off the elevator. "Um, uh, Pepper—when-when have you seen my tattoo? Pepper?" It's not like I was embarrassed, but I didn't _remember_ ever showing her my a-s.

            I could hear Obadiah laughing at me as the elevator doors closed between us. This one was going to be mentioned again, I could tell.

* * *


End file.
